


Lost At Sea

by Jacie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Airplanes, Being Lost, Islands, M/M, Marooned, Missing Persons, lost at sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Jacie
Summary: Gibbs, Tony and Tim catch a ride on a supply plane on the way to a case; a ship being held off the coast of Spain. A storm comes in and their plane goes down and the team has to work to survive.
Relationships: Anthony DiNozzo/Jethro Gibbs
Comments: 86
Kudos: 270





	1. With a Light and a Rod

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in 2014, then abandoned it when the series aired _Twenty Klicks_. It was originally meant to be sort of a _Cast Away_ thing. Anyway, I've dusted it off and am trying to finish it. It is currently a WIP. (UPDATE: Finished 01/19/20)
> 
> This story takes place after Kate is shot, but before Ziva joins the team.

Gibbs was already up, sitting at the dining room table. In his hand was the morning paper. Tony thought he always looked sexy with his reading glasses on. With Gibbs being a former sniper, Tony had given up hope of sneaking up on him. Still, he pressed his lips against Gibbs’ neck and nuzzled softly.

“You know all those dirty things we did last night?” he asked.

A smile spread across Gibbs’ face before he looked up. “Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to get home after work and do them all over again,” Tony disclosed as he reached for a piece of toast, taking a large bite. After licking a bit of butter off his thumb, he added, “Maybe we can do some of them a couple more times.”

Gibbs laughed. They’d been together for a year now. It had all started while on stakeout. They were bored. A few accidental touches later, they were kissing. Moving his fingers to his lips, Gibbs remembered the tingling from the first time their lips met. 

Tony was good for him. He never talked to anyone about it, not even Fornell, but he feared becoming a grouchy old man stuck in his basement with his bourbon and wood projects, refusing to leave the house when he was off duty. He imagined himself forgetting to shave or get a haircut. Left alone, he’d wear dirty clothes because it wouldn’t matter. 

Tony had changed his outlook on life. The first time they met, he recognized Tony’s potential. It happened when he was looking to replace Stan anyway, so the timing could not have been better. When they both realized Danny, Tony’s partner on the Baltimore PD force, was dirty, Gibbs knew Tony would come work for him. All it took was a simple invitation to the Navy Yard, where he gave Tony the grand tour, then left him in front of the Human Resources office.

For a long time, that was all it was. But one day, he realized that Tony knew him better than anyone else. He could anticipate Gibbs’ thoughts and orders. The younger agent could read his moods and usually used good judgment; knowing when to push Gibbs and when to lay off.

Yes, Tony was handsome; totally hot even. Gibbs had first noticed when they used to spar in the NCIS gym. Anytime he was around Tony and they were hot and sweaty, he was glad to be wearing a cup. There were times he noticed Tony had gotten hard and quietly dismissed himself to the men’s room to take care of it.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asked.

“Just thinking about stuff.”

“Bedroom stuff?”

“Maybe.”

“Tell me.”

“We have to get to the office, DiNozzo.”

“Okay, but when we get home, I expect you to throw me down and have your way with me.”

“Let’s roll.” Gibbs was smiling as they left the house. It was time to put his _Special Agent Gibbs_ mask on. 

He remembered recognizing that Tony tended to wear a mask during their first few months together. After years of his father sending him off to boarding schools, he had mastered the craft. Tony could always read Gibbs. For his own part, Gibbs had spent years developing his NCIS persona. Sometimes he needed to distance himself from others. After Stephanie, he was determined to never marry again. He never suspected that the next time he thought of committing to someone, that it would be a man.

He loved Tony. Everything within him recognized how good they were together. Still, with Tony’s playboy past, Gibbs was never sure how long he would be around. While Gibbs tended to think _forever_ in relationships, he thought Tony had trouble thinking past the end of the week. No one was more surprised they were still together after a year than Gibbs.

Now, he told himself, was the time to sit Tony down and have a serious talk about where they were going. He’d been pushing it back. At first, he wanted to talk to Tony after a month, then six months, now a year. What was holding him back? Was it the fear that Tony would laugh at the thought? Or that Tony would leave? Would Tony get cold feet at the thought of commitment, turn tail and run? If Gibbs tried to push the issue he risked not only losing the love of his life, but the best NCIS partner he’d ever had. He’d be alone again. Stuck in his basement, unshaven, straggly-haired and wearing dirty clothes as he sipped his bourbon and ignored the world outside of his house.

In many ways, Tony was the key to his life, his happiness, perhaps even the key to his having a meaningful existence.

*** *** *** 

To avoid anyone else discovering their relationship, they still drove into work separately. The sky was dark with heavy clouds as a major storm was rolling into the area. The local forecast foretold a dark and gloomy day.

Vance called Gibbs to the office as soon as they arrived. After an hour-long briefing and discussion, he returned to the bullpen and waved Tony over.

“Grab your go bag.”

“Where are we going?”

“Rota, Spain.”

“What’s the case?”

“We have a ship with dead crew members being held three hundred miles from the port. It’s too much for the Agent Afloat to handle alone. Tim, you, too. Navy supply plane is going to give us a lift.”

“Oh, goodie, murder on the high seas,” said Tony, grimacing as he swung his pack over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

Ninety minutes later, they were boarded onto a flight and headed toward Spain. Tim and Tony sat next to each other on the plane, jostled by turbulence, and watched as Gibbs was soundly sleeping sitting upright across the aisle from them, partially hidden behind boxes of supplies, his arms crossed, legs stretched out as far as he could and his head tilted slightly downward.

Tim yawned. “How can he sleep like that? My stomach is doing flip-flops.”

“Tell your stomach to keep it’s flip-flopping to itself.”

Raising the airsick bag in his hand, Tim assured him, “I’m prepared.” 

“I hope you’re downwind from me. I don’t want to get splashed with any puke-spray.”

“I’ll turn away from you if I feel something coming up. I promise.”

“Okay, McBlowhole. Be sure you do.”

Although they both occasionally nodded off, neither could fall into a sound sleep like Gibbs. 

“I don’t know how he does it,” Tony commented. 

After three hours, the co-pilot came back to explain a hurricane had developed and was coming further north than anticipated. “We’re going to alter our flight path, but we’re in for a bumpy ride. Sorry about the turbulence. You’re going to want to hold on.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Gibbs was jostled awake, but managed to remain seated. 

Tim was holding his airsick bag to his mouth, his eyes open wide.

“We hit a storm,” said Tony.

Gibbs yawned and stretched, twisting to crack his spine. “Obviously.”

Moments later, the co-pilot returned and made sure they all had a life vest. “It’s getting really bad,” he said. “Our navigator isn’t sure we can outrun it. The radio is down and some of the sensors seem to have gone haywire.”

“We’re not flying over the Bermuda Triangle, are we?” Tony asked.

The co-pilot smiled weakly. “No, sir. We’re further north than that.”

Tony nodded, satisfied. “It’s all good then.”

Just then, they heard cursing from the cockpit and the co-pilot raced back in that direction. 

Gibbs grasped the nylon straps attached to the wall to steady himself. “It’s not that good.” Moments later, they were plummeting downward and Gibbs was yelling, “Put on your life preservers. Now! We’re ditching, get ready to bale.” Leaving his seat, he began staggering to the back of the plane. Turning around, he added, “If we hit water, I’m going to try to get the back loading door open. Swim to the back.” He then disappeared behind pallets full of supplies.

Tony glanced at Tim. “What part of the plane is the safest?”

Tim shook his head.

“If we hit the water, should we go front or back?”

Moving the bag away from his mouth for a moment, Tim replied, “It depends how we hit. If we nosedive into the water, we probably can’t get out that way. The cockpit could be all smashed up depending on how hard we hit.”

“Note to self, always trust Gibbs’ guts,” said Tony as he stood up and began making his way toward the back of the plane while putting on his life preserver.

Just then the lights flickered off as the plane crashed into the ocean.

“Crap!” yelled Tony as cold water began to flow through the dark cabin. 

“Did Gibbs get the door open?” asked Tim.

“Fucking hell, I don’t know. Tim, I’m stuck. Damn supply pallets shifted. Son of a bitch, that water is cold.”

“I can’t see anything,” Tim said frantically. “How do I find you?”

Suddenly a dim light appeared from the back of the plane as Gibbs returned through the maze of pallets. Handing a flashlight to Tim, he said, “Get your preserver on, then get out the back.” Handing him a nylon bag, he added, “Once you’re outside the plane, get this open. It’s the emergency inflatable raft.”

“You got the door open?” Tim asked as the water rose up to his knees.

“Yes, get the fuck out of here. That’s an order, McGee.”

“Aren’t you coming with me, Boss?”

“I’ll get Tony. You get the raft inflated and we’ll be right behind you.”

Turning away from Tim, Gibbs used the other flashlight he’d found to search for Tony. “Skippy, where are you?”

The response was faint. “Here, Boss. My leg hurts like a mother fucker. I can’t get it loose. You go on. Save yourself.”

Using the flashlight, Gibbs tried to determine what was blocking Tony, but found the water was rushing in so quickly that it was becoming difficult to see anything. 

As the water was rising up to Tony’s chest, he flailed his arms, trying to keep his head above water. “Jethro, please just go. Let me go.”

“Shut up, DiNozzo.” Spotting an expansion rod used to separate cargo, Gibbs swiftly grabbed it and used it to lever the two pallets closest to Tony apart. It seemed to take forever, but they inched apart slowly. “Are you free, yet? Let me know,” said Gibbs as he kept pressure on the post.

Moments later, Tony moved. “Yeah, yeah, I think that did it. Thanks, Boss.”

“No man left behind, DiNozzo. Get out the back. McGee has the emergency raft. Look for that.”

“Yeah, okay. Wait, where are you going?”

“Check on the pilots and navigator.”

“Jethro, no! We have to go. This thing is going to sink any second and you’ll be trapped. Come on!”

“You go, Tony. You’re hurt. Go on. And that is an order.”

The water was lapping around Tony’s chin as he realized he was swimming more than walking. His leg still hurt, but he knew time was becoming critically short. 

“Get the fuck out of here, DiNozzo! I’ll be right behind you.”


	2. The Raft

As soon as he got to the back of the plane, Tim found that the rear hatch was indeed wide open. Some of the cargo had shifted and had slid right out the back of the airplane. Holding the bag out from his body, Tim pulled the cord to inflate the raft. Seconds later, he jumped from the plane into the raft and extended the oar handles to their full length. 

His first thought was to get away from the plane. “If it goes down, it will suck everything else down with it,” he told himself.

The water was incredibly choppy and the wind and rain were making it difficult to see or hear anything. Convinced moving away from the plane was the right thing to do, he paddled as hard as he could. He kept looking at the back of the plane, watching for any sign of Tony or Gibbs. Or the flight crew, for that matter. He saw no one. He began screaming their names, but he knew he couldn’t be heard over the cacophony of sounds. It sounded like the metal plane was being ripped apart. 

It took several minutes for the plane to break up and the engines to go quiet, sputtering in defeat as they sunk beneath the surface of the water. 

“Shit!” he said.

He looked around wildly, but there was so much debris, and the waves were constantly battering him and the raft. With each swell, he felt more seasick and eventually hurled over the side of the small craft. Every direction he looked was only more waves and debris. Between the wind, rain and waves, he was tossed around like a ragdoll.

It seemed like forever before Gibbs’ head popped up over the side and he climbed aboard, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. It was obvious that he was both exhausted and drenched. When he opened his eyes, he asked. “Where’s Tony?”

Tim shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone. There was so much water, rain, waves and debris, I couldn’t see anything.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he puked over the side again. 

Gibbs scrubbed his hands over his face, then found the emergency supply kit. Once he popped the lid off, he found a bottle of motion sickness pills and handed it to Tim. He also located a compact set of binoculars. “Let’s get the top up so you’re out of the rain, at least,” he suggested. 

Tim nodded and helped Gibbs with setting up the canopy. Once that was done, Tim took a pill and tried to stay low in the raft. Gibbs settled at the canopy opening and searched the water for any sign of life. “He’d be wearing a life vest,” he muttered. “I’m sure he had it on.”

“You got him free?” asked Tim.

“Yeah, I wasn't going to leave him pinned in there! I pried the pallets apart and he got loose. I told him to go out the back and look for you and the raft.”

“You weren’t together?” 

“I wanted to see if the crew was still alive and trapped. I worked my way back to the front of the plane in case they needed help.”

“They were all killed on impact?”

“Don’t know. Only found the pilot and co-pilot. They were both still strapped in their seats, with head wounds. I’m sure they attempted to land on the water, but as choppy as it was, well, we must have hit hard and things went flying.”

“They didn’t make it? That sucks.”

“I didn’t see the navigator, but the cabin was flooded by the time I got there. I’m not sure if the pilots drowned or died from head trauma, but I’m sure they were both gone. I had to get out; had to get some air.”

“Maybe the navigator got out, too?”

“The front cabin door was open. I’ll bet that was the navigator. But you didn’t see anyone? Not even Tony? I’m sure he was free. Damn it! Maybe he was injured and couldn’t make it. Maybe…maybe he still had a strap caught on his leg or something. Damn it! I should have stayed with him.”

“You didn’t come out the back?”

Gibbs shook his head. “No. The door behind the cockpit was open. I swam out and up, but I didn’t see anyone. The navigator must have opened that door. Both pilots were still strapped in their seats. They wouldn’t have opened it unless we hit. And if they got it open, they wouldn’t be still strapped in their seats. The navigator has to be out there somewhere, too.”

Gibbs continued watching until it became too dark to see anything. Then he zipped up the opening and placed his hand on Tim’s forehead. “Well, at least neither of us has a fever.” 

They both slept restlessly, often being woken up by a noise, or when a wave nearly tossed them on their side. 

“There’s a beacon or something, right?” Tim asked.

Gibbs searched through the kit. “Not that I can tell. The airplane itself should be sending out some sort of signal. We shouldn’t be too far away from it. When the search team comes, they should be able to find us.”

“You know what, Boss? There is an awful lot of debris floating around the airplane. Some of the pallets broke free and were in the water. I’ll bet Tony and the navigator had plenty of things out there they could hold onto. Once the sun comes up, we can see if we can find them.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re right,” Gibbs said, totally unconvincingly.


	3. Salvage

The storm raged throughout the night, causing both McGee and Gibbs to tightly grasp the ropes along the edge of the raft. They were thankful to have a canopy and watertight door to keep out the rain, but Tim threw up a couple of times inside the raft, although by then, there wasn’t much left in his stomach. They were both drenched and cold. Gibbs found one water-wicking blanket in the emergency kit, which they both huddled beneath. Despite the storm, they both eventually fell asleep.

Gibbs awoke first and realized they were no longer moving like they were on the ocean. After unzipping the door, he leaned out, confirming the raft had come to rest at the edge of a sandy beach. They were lucky they’d made it, as the raft had deflated. 

Stepping outside of the craft, Gibbs inspected it, then eyed the dangerously sharp rocks in the bay. He deduced that the raft had been punctured as they entered the bay and the waves pushed them to the shore. Grabbing the attached ropes, Gibbs tugged the raft completely out of the water. Then he pulled off his shoes, setting them upside down in hopes they would eventually dry out.

After retrieving the binoculars, he stared out over the bay. Every time he spotted some debris, he went to inspect it. He was surprised at the amount of supplies that had managed to be washed into the bay, many things were stored in watertight containers that were floating in the water. Other items were in cardboard boxes that were obviously soaked through, and barely bobbing in the water. Realizing how rocky the seabed was, he struggled to put his soaked shoes back onto his feet and began hauling gear onto the beach. It was about everything they could possibly need; water, MREs, clothing, boots, tarps, flashlights, waterproof matches. He even found some cases of paper goods, such as toilet paper, but figured it wasn’t worth saving. 

Two hours later, McGee awoke and poked his head out of the raft. “Thank God!” he exclaimed. 

“McGee!” Gibbs hollered back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Boss. Although it sure got my heart racing when I woke up and you were gone.”

“Be glad I woke up when I did. Raft is punctured. Good thing we made it to shore, or we could have sank out there,” he said, nodding toward the ocean.

“That would have sucked,” Tim agreed.

Flipping out his knife, Gibbs added, “We would have gotten out, but we would have had to swim for it.”

Tim shivered and glanced around at all the boxes that had been dragged to shore. “What is all this? Is this stuff all from the plane?”

“Yeah, I think so. The good news is, we have plenty of supplies.”

“I’d give it all up for a radio with an active GPS signal. Are there any coats? I’m freezing.”

“A lot of stuff is soaked, Tim. The food and water is all packed in watertight cases, but other stuff isn’t. Start breaking boxes open. If you find any jackets or blankets, lay them out on the rocks and they’ll dry eventually. I’ll go see if I can find some firewood.”

“Oh yeah. Smoke signal.”

“That, too, but I thought a fire would warm you up.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

Gibbs started his search for wood by dragging all the broken bits of pallets onto the beach where they could dry out. He then meandered away, disappearing into the green foliage of the island, leaving Tim behind to deal with their salvaged cargo.

Hours later, Gibbs returned with an armload of dry wood which he arranged into a fire. It took him another hour to create a fire pit around the flames by enclosing it with large stones. 

“Take a break, Tim,” he offered. “Get warm.”

The gray day was certainly cool and chilly, but wasn’t unbearably cold. Tim still took the opportunity to rest for a few minutes as he sat beside the fire, wearing their original blanket from the raft’s survival kit as a cloak.

Gibbs dug out a couple of the MREs and heated them up before handing one to Tim, along with a bottle of water. “We’ll have to see if we can find fresh water on the island. The bottles will only last so long.”

Tim nodded his understanding. 

As Tim continued to huddle by the fire, Gibbs picked up the binoculars again and resumed searching the horizon. 

“He could have wound up somewhere else on the island,” Tim said hopefully.

Without dropping the binoculars, Gibbs said, “Everything flowed in with the tide. It looks like everything funneled into this bay. We wound up here. All these supplies wound up here. If Tony and the navigator are still out there, they should wind up here.”

An hour later, Tim stood up and went back to work sorting out their salvaged supplies. Anything that was too waterlogged to be useful was placed into one pile along with broken bits of the airplane, while other things were sorted by what it was: food, drink, tools, clothing, etc. Tim set out the damp clothing, towels and blankets that he found. First on the rocks, then he resorted to hanging them on branches of the bushes and trees at the edge of the beach. Eventually, he found some rope and strung up a few clotheslines. He also helped Gibbs haul the raft closer to the treeline. 

“Gotta make sure it’s far enough from the water that the tide won’t wash it away,” Gibbs warned.

It soon became clear that they’d have to move all of the supplies closer to the treeline, as the tide began creeping further up the coastline. Once Tim had the supplies mostly sorted, Gibbs began moving the food, water and tools out of harm’s way. He left the fabrics where they were drying in the sun, only moving them when the tide started to come back up later in the day. 

It was devastating to them both that not only had they seen absolutely no sign of Tony or the navigator, who Gibbs remembered as being named Roger Seward. It was also a punch in the gut that they hadn’t seen nor heard any rescue or search planes. It had been hours. Surely the Navy could have scrambled a search team by now.

“We may be here a while,” Gibbs said as they ate their second round of MREs. “We can’t wait for the food and water to run out. We’re going to have to do a grid search to see if there is anything on this island in the way of food and water.”

“And we’ll need a shelter. It’s too cold and wet to sleep on the beach. You’re better at building stuff. I can go search the island,” Tim offered.

Gibbs thought about it for a minute, then agreed. “Keep an eye on the sun. Get back here before dark.”

Digging through the tools, Gibbs found axes and began felling a few trees. Tim took one of the axes and a couple of canvas bags before disappearing into the dense greenery. There was also plenty of rope for Gibbs to use to make a durable shelter topped with many layers of tree branches and tarps. Every forty minutes or so, he would take a break from his construction task and would go to the highest spot near the beach and would scan the ocean with the binoculars. He occasionally spotted more debris, but saw no people. 

Before the sun began to fade, Gibbs had assembled a decent shelter before going back to scanning the ocean’s surface. 

Tim returned covered in insect bites and bearing a handful of different types of fruit, which he took to the water’s edge to wash.

“Find any water?”

Tim shook his head. “But we have some containers. I’ll bet it rains fairly often, so we can collect rainwater to drink.”

“Fruit contains water. We’ll get by,” said Gibbs as he rebuilt the fire, this time adding green branches to make it smoky. “Maybe they’ll spot the spoke.”

“I sure hope so.”

The pair gathered together all the fabrics set out to dry, and covered them with tarps. After another meal of MREs, with the addition of fresh fruit, it began to rain on the beach again. 

Tim set out their emptied water bottles, reinforced with rocks to keep them upright. He also set out some containers they’d found in the supplies. “It will be enough,” he said confidently. “I’m sure it will be enough to survive until they find us.”

“Yeah.” Gibbs sounded unconvinced.

Once that was done, Gibbs and McGee disappeared into the shelter for the night. They watched anxiously for a few minutes before they were satisfied that their shelter was waterproof. 

Gibbs stared outside into the darkness. “The co-pilot said they were altering course and that the instruments were acting up.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tim, his eyes wide.

“Who knows if the altered flight path was transmitted? And if anyone received it? If they have no idea where we are, we could be out here for far too long. Like that guy in the movie Tony made me watch, the one with the volleyball.”

“ _Cast Away_ with Tom Hanks. He called the volleyball Wilson.” The memory had Tim smiling.

“Yeah, sounds familiar.”

“Boss, you do realize that movie was fiction.”

Gibbs sighed deeply and stared out into the rain and darkness. “Yeah, that was. But this isn’t. Get some sleep, McGee.”


	4. Where’s Tony?

The next morning, they awoke to more rain, more MREs and Tim checking the open bottles and containers. “We caught some rainwater, but not enough to fill the bottles; not as much as I’d hoped for. I need to design something broader to catch more water,” he said as mathematical equations and inklings of designs sped through his mind.

“We still need to search the island. Never know what we may find.”

Stopping in his tracks for a moment, Tim stared at Gibbs. “You know what Abby would say? She’d say, he’s not dead until there is scientific proof. He is out there, somewhere. He has to be.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know. We just have to find him.”

“We will, Boss. We will.”

It was another day, with much of the same, chilly and mostly cloudy with an occasional rain sprinkling down on them. Gibbs used his knife to cut a pair of pants he found down to shorts to make wading into the bay easier.

Turning to Tim, he said, “I’m going to see if I can find the highest point on the island. I want to see what’s out there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tim offered.

Gibbs smiled. “Didn’t you get enough insect bites on your last hike?”

“I saw some bug spray. It’s thick out there, Boss. It’ll be easier with two of us hacking a trail. It’s going to take some time and a lot of effort.”

Looking up into the sky, Gibbs replied as he fashioned a shirt he found into a piece of cloth that covered his head and neck. He used a short piece of rope to secure it. “I have a feeling that time is one thing we have plenty of.”

“We should probably eat and drink what we can before we go. It’s not pleasant trying to get through all the foliage. It’s like hacking through a wall with a letter opener.”

“A wall buzzing with bugs.”

They hacked through the brush for hours, stopping to rest whenever they felt they were breathing too hard. 

“I’m sweating buckets,” McGee said during one break. “If we don’t find a fresh water source, we can’t keep doing this. It takes too much energy.”

Gibbs glared at him. They had a job to do and he fully intended to follow through his plan with or without Tim’s help. It wound up taking them a full day to get up to a high point. Once they had a path somewhat cleared, it was a much easier trek.

The next morning, Gibbs brought extra food and water with him, intending to spend several hours with the binoculars staring across the ocean. Tim went with him, also watching for anything of significance. 

After three hours, Gibbs saw it. “There’s something over there!” he yelled as he started running down the path.

“What did you see?”

“Yellow. Has to be a life preserver. Or something from the plane. It could be Tony.”

Tim was right on Gibbs’ heels as they raced back to their encampment. The beach quickly disappeared in both directions, giving way to a few trees, then nearly vertical, rocky bluffs surrounded their cove. It was clear they’d have to get into the water and swim in order to reach the object Gibbs had spotted.

Once back at their camp, Gibbs grabbed a coil of rope and his life vest before moving into the water until it was deep enough to swim. The ocean was rough, but he headed south, keeping the coast within his view and just a few yards away; close enough he could get there if he ran into trouble.

An expression of doubt graced Tim’s countenance, but he soon joined Gibbs, swimming south, just yards from the shore. “Too bad the raft got punctured,” he sputtered. “It sure would be nice to have a boat.”

“If they don’t find us soon, I’ll be happy to start building one. That’s number three on the plan.”

“There is a plan? What plan?”

Moving back into water that was shallow enough to stand up and start walking, Gibbs disclosed, “Of course there’s a plan, McGee! Phase one was survival; food, water and shelter. Phase two is, we find Tony. Phase three is to build a boat and get off the island…unless someone finds us first.”

“Boss, we’d never make it. We’re lost, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. We don’t even know which way to go that has the shortest distance to land.”

Gibbs just glared at him for a few moments. Then said in all seriousness, “We find Tony first.”

The current became stronger as they worked their way closer to where Gibbs was certain the yellow life vest was spotted. He finally insisted that they each tie one end of the rope around their waists, just in case either of them got pulled by the current, so the other one could pull him back out of danger.

“Tony?” Gibbs yelled. “Tony, where are you?” There was no response at first, but after several minutes, Gibbs was certain he heard moaning. “Tony, we’re coming to get you. Just hang on.”

“Keep holding on, Tony,” called Tim. “We’ll get you.”

The pair worked their way through the pounding waves and Gibbs eventually made his way around a large, ragged boulder. His heart was racing as he saw the brown hair of the man desperately clinging to the rock. The bright, yellow life vest was still there. Gibbs noticed the man’s hands were pale and bloody from grasping at the jagged edges of the rocky outcropping. 

Gibbs slowly worked his way over to the stranded man and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get you out of here. You’re going to be fine.”

“Need water,” the man croaked.

Gibbs untied the rope from around his own waist and tied it around the other man. “Hold him steady McGee. We’ll guide him into shore. Slow and easy.” Gibbs turned the other man so they were facing each other, and was surprised. His heart immediately sank, but he knew they still had to bring the crewmember to shore. “It’s Roger,” he called.

It took several minutes, but they finally got him to the beach, a tiny sandy area on the far side of the bluff from where their base camp was. Gibbs left Tim to care for the navigator while he swam back to their camp to retrieve a pouch that he filled with bottles of water and some food. When he returned, he gave Roger a water bottle and set up a small fire. Once the navigator was able to sit upright on his own, Gibbs heated up the three meals, handing one to each man.

“I guess we’re lucky it was a supply ship. We have plenty of everything,” said Tim. “All this stuff washed into the same bay where the tide pushed us.”

Gibbs looked Roger in the eye and asked, “Did you see Tony? The other agent who was with us? Have you see him since the crash?”

Roger was chewing his food slowly. “Yeah, I think so. It’s all a bit of a blur, like a dream that never really solidified. As we were going down, Jeff insisted that I leave the cockpit and get a life jacket on. Getting kicked out of the cockpit probably saved my life. The pilots didn't make it. But I remember, after the plane went down, I got the door open and got out. I swam for it, trying to get away from the plane. For a long time, I was treading water, then I remember finding a bit of debris and holding on. I saw him, Tony, he had on a yellow life jacket and was still in the water. We both tried to kick and paddle toward each other.”

“He’s alive, then?” asked Gibbs. 

“He was.”

Gibbs’ voice fell quiet and raspy as he choked back the tears. “Did he die?”

“I wish I could tell you one way or the other. I honestly don’t know.”

Gibbs scanned the ocean’s surface. “You saw him, though. What happened? Where is he?”

“We were near each other. We talked a bit, trying our best to stay awake. I fell asleep eventually. When I woke up, I couldn’t find him. I think we simply drifted apart overnight. I looked around and called out, but never saw him or heard him. I wound up here and was trying to swim to shore, but I ran out of energy. When I got to the rock, I was trying to hold on until I had the strength to swim in a little further. I was swimming from one outcropping to the next, trying to make it to land. Thank God you found me, though. I’m not sure I would have made it on my own.”

As it was getting dark, and there was no way to get back to their beach without going through the water, they opted to stay where they were for the night. Thankfully, it didn’t rain. Gibbs gathered some tree leaves to use as sleeping mats and kept the fire burning throughout the night to stay warm.

The following morning, Roger was in much better shape. 

“We have to go back through the water,” Gibbs said gently. “We’ll get you back to our base camp and patch you up.”

“We have more food and water there,” Tim added.

Gibbs tied the middle of the rope around Roger’s waist, and one end around his own. The other end, he tossed to Tim. They entered the water and worked their way around the bluff until they were back at the beach.

Tim patched up Roger’s hands while Gibbs heated up three more MREs.

Roger huddled under a blanket they’d given him and held an empty plastic bottle that he’d quickly drained of water. “You have to go find Tony,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand. If he is still alive, he doesn’t have much time. We didn’t have any food or water out there. He’s probably suffering from hypothermia.” Looking at his bloody hands, he continued, “I could barely hold on anymore. I wouldn’t have lasted much longer if you hadn’t found me when you did.”

“Was he okay?” Gibbs asked.

“I think so. It was cold and dark. His teeth were chattering, but so were mine. I made him find a large enough piece of debris that he could lie on top of it. I wanted to get him out of the water. I was afraid he’d succumb to hypothermia and drown overnight.”

“And he found something? He was out of the water last time you saw him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did. There was a lot of debris floating around. I spotted something he could use and tried to help him climb out of the water. He was so cold, but I’m sure he got on top of it. He was out of the water. I was holding onto it for him, but once I fell asleep, I must have let go.”

Gibbs finished his meal quickly, chugged a bottle of water, wiped his mouth, then began to gear up. “I’ve got to go looking for him.”

“Both of you go. I’ll be fine,” insisted Roger. 

“No,” said Gibbs. “Tim can stay with you. I’ll go.”

“You will double your chances of finding him if you both go. Hell, I’ll go,” said Roger as he struggled unsteadily to his feet. “His time is running out, Agent Gibbs, wherever he is.”


	5. Another Direction

Gibbs scrubbed his hand over his mouth and walked away. Standing at the edge of the sandy beach, he looked out over the bay. 

Roger looked at McGee. “Isn’t he going to do something? Tony really doesn’t have much time left. If he’s even still alive.”

“More debris floats in overnight,” Tim explained. “He’s looking for any sign of Tony in the water.”

“We need to be proactive. Gibbs can’t be afraid to look because there may be a dead body at the end of the search. The possibility that he’s still alive means we have to prioritize finding him.”

“It is a priority. Gibbs needs to think it through and figure out where Tony could possibly be. Something in that debris field might hold a clue. We have searched the island every single day. And Tony is still alive. Until we have proof that he isn’t, we have to believe he’s alive. Rest up. I’m going to go give Gibbs a hand.”

Scrambling to his feet, Tim dusted the sand from his legs and walked into the bay. Water lapped around him as he started inspecting and gathering debris. Anything they found was brought back to the beach. Roger watched the pair as they worked together wordlessly.

Within minutes, Gibbs found something and hugged it to his chest for a moment. Despite his efforts to hide his tears, Tim noticed and came over to him. 

“What did you find, Boss?”

His words were barely audible as he spoke, “Tony’s go-bag. Damn it, Tim. We’ve just got to find him.”

“I know. And we will.” 

Gibbs clung to the bag and returned to shore. He found a spot away from the fire and began going through the bag. Everything he touched reminded him of Tony. Every piece of clothing was something he remembered Tony wearing. And there was a small bag of toiletries that Tony had used. His cell phone and charging cord were there, hopelessly soaked through. Gibbs opened a small zippered pocket and found a photo. He remembered in their early days, Tony carried a photo of him with his mother. This was a different photo. It was a print of Gibbs and Tony together on a beach vacation. Seeing Tony’s smiling face broke his heart all over again, knowing that it could be gone forever.

“Where are you, Tony?”

Thunder sounded and lightning crackled above them.

Tim was dragging more debris to the shore. “I found your go-bag and mine, too, Boss. I guess now we can brush our teeth at least,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Gibbs slipped the photo back into its pocket and placed the bag into their makeshift shelter, out of the rain. When he returned to the beach, he wiped his eyes again. “No time, Tim. We need to go search for him. We need to find him.”

“I want to help,” offered Roger. 

“You’re in no shape to battle through the brush or the ocean,” said Gibbs. “Stay here, get some rest.”

“Surely, I can do something. You said you spotted me from some high point. I can go up there and look for any sign of Tony. Please? I want to help. And you need all the help you can get.”

“It’s raining.”

“Agent Gibbs, I spent the last couple of days in the ocean. Sitting in the rain is not going to be a problem for me.”

Gibbs thought about it for a moment, then began gathering some gear. He put together bundles that he and Tim carried while they escorted Roger up to the summit. At the top, they all looked around. Gibbs pointed out where their base camp was and where he’d spotted Roger’s yellow life vest in the water to the south. 

When they unloaded the gear, they set Roger up with tarps, raingear, the binoculars, several bottles of water and a few MREs. Gibbs also handed him some waterproof matches and a flare gun. 

“If it stops raining, you can try to get a fire going if you want.” Nodding to a pile covered by a tarp, off to the side, he said, “I’ve been bringing dry wood up here, in case we hear a plane. Use what you need. If you see anything, fire off the flare gun. Just once though. It may take us an hour or two to get back up to you. We need to save at least one flare in case a rescue plane comes anywhere near the island.”

Roger nodded. “Understood. And I will be fine. Don’t worry about me. Find Tony.”

“We plan to.”

Leaving Roger behind, Gibbs and Tim quickly made their way down the path.

“Where should we start today?” Tim asked.

“We need to get out in the water. We found Roger out there and he said he’d been with Tony after the crash. We start where we found him and keep working south and east.”

They each wore their safety vest and carried a sealed pouch that included water bottles and MREs. Gibbs grabbed the rope and made sure they were linked together before they went into the water and worked their way back to the cove where they’d found Roger. Gibbs insisted that they search that area completely before moving on. While they did find debris from the airplane, there was nothing connected to Tony, or their survival.

“I’d give anything for the radio to wash up,” Tim said.

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, “The co-pilot said it wasn’t working before we ditched. Plus, we have nothing to power it.”

“The professor figured it out on _Gilligan’s Island_.”

The remark caused Gibbs to chuckle. “ _Cast Away_ is far more realistic than _Gilligan’s Island_.”

Pausing in the water for a moment, Tim thought back. “What was it that Tony said?”

“About what?”

“Didn’t he ask if we were in the Bermuda Triangle?”

“He asked if we were flying over it, and the co-pilot said we were north.”

“The co-pilot also said their systems were on the blink. Maybe we are in the Bermuda Triangle after all. If something was messing with the sensors, we could have been flying in the opposite direction than they thought.”

Gibbs stopped long enough to glare at Tim for a full minute. “I don’t want to hear the words Bermuda or Triangle come out of your mouth again. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Or Gilligan. We need real answers, not fictional ones.”

“Got it.”

They spent the rest of the morning searching down to the southern point of the island. The further they went, the less debris they found. They hadn’t found anything in over forty minutes when Gibbs noticed the flare and nodded toward it.

Tim looked up. “Roger must have seen something.”

“This is a dead-end anyway. Let’s get back.”

It took the pair over two hours to work their way back to their base camp, and another thirty minutes to hike up the trail to where they’d left Roger. By the time they got to the top of the peak, it had stopped raining again. 

“Sorry we took so long,” Tim said as he panted heavily. “It’s slow going through the water.”

Roger held up the binoculars. “I know. I saw where you guys went, and saw when you were coming back.”

“What did you see?” Gibbs asked forcefully.

“I didn’t really see anything. I kept an eye on your progress and scanned around other areas, too. Nothing of interest, but…”

“Then why did you fire off the flare?”

Roger shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny coming from Gibbs. “I heard something. A few times. The first time I wasn’t sure, but I heard it at least a half-dozen more times.” 

“Heard what?”

“It sounded like somebody screaming out in pain or frustration.”

Gibbs scanned around the horizon. “Where? Where did it come from?”

Roger shakily pointed toward the north. “I think it came from that direction. It’s hard to tell with the rain and the wind. But I think it came from the northeast.”

“McGee, let’s check it out.”

“You really think it’s Tony?” Tim asked.

“He’s not to the south. The next place to look is the north. It could be something, so we are going to check it out.”

After returning to their base camp, they ate a quick meal and each drank a bottle of water before venturing out again. As before, they wore their life vests and Gibbs insisted they take a rope and each tie an end around his waist so if one got into trouble, the other could pull him out. Each one still carried a pouch with six water bottles and three MREs, so that'd have provisions to share with Tony when they found him.

They started slowly, working their way north. There was another rocky bluff to skirt. The current was much more forceful than on their southern route. Gibbs kept them as close to the bluff as possible. It made the journey a slow one. Although, they found it promising that some of the debris had washed into the area.

They made sure to check out every rocky outcropping for any signs that someone may have been there, but they found no torn clothing and no trace of blood from an injury. 

It took them several minutes to work around the first bluff, and they found another one behind it. In spots, the water was deep. Other locations had strong currents, some had debris churning around like it was in a washing machine.

At Gibbs’ instance, they continued pushing on. After two hours, they came across a small cove. There were small bits of debris from the plane, but nowhere near as much as had washed up by them. Their cove was clearly the recipient of most of the items and debris from the plane.

“Boss! That could be fresh water,” McGee exclaimed as they saw water bubbling into the ocean. They swam toward it until they reached the beach. They were happy to be walking back on dry land again. Tim tasted it and nodded. “It tastes good. What are you looking at, Boss.”

“Drag marks,” he said simply.

“Where? I don’t see anything.”

Pointing through the foliage, Gibbs said, “Right there.”

Tim sighed, but followed where Gibbs was leading. 

Gibbs ducked and pushed through, following the babbling stream. “Tony? Tony DiNozzo?” he yelled. A moment later, he stopped so suddenly Tim bumped into him.

“Boss?”

“Shhh. Tony? Tony, is that you? DiNozzo!”

That time, Tim heard it too; an agonizing moan betraying both pain and frustration just as Roger had described. Within seconds, Tim started seeing the drag marks Gibbs was following as the surface of the ground changed from sand to dirt. There was the telltale sign of greenery that had been flattened. They were both calling Tony’s name, pausing on Gibbs’ cue to listen for a response. 

It was only a few yards, but they had fight their way through the brush. Whatever had been dragged had been low to the ground and hadn’t had to deal with the dense foliage more than a foot above the surface. Gibbs even resorted to crawling through some of it, just to get through it faster. 

There were a couple small rises, and in some spots the trail they followed was more rocky than brushy. The further they went, the louder the moaning and groaning sounds became.

Time seemed to move excruciatingly slow, but Gibbs’ heart began beating faster when he saw a leg through the greenery. “Tony! Tony, we’re here. We’ve got you.” After fighting through the last few scraggly branches and vines, Gibbs reached Tony and saw his eyes were closed. Gently slapping his face, he asked, “Are you with me? Are you awake?” Waving his arms, Tony tried to bat Gibbs away. Gibbs grabbed his wrists and kissed each one, then leaned in to kiss his lips. “Damn, Skippy. I’ve never been so fucking happy to see anyone in my whole life.”

“Hey, Boss,” he chirped softly. “I knew you’d show up.”

Gibbs surveyed the area and tried to get Tony to sit up. “Better late than never.” Dropping the pouch he was carrying, Gibbs sat down behind Tony to keep him sitting upright. “Are you okay? Is anything hurting?”

Blinking his eyes open slowly, Tony glanced at his leg, which was looking a bit awkward. “I think those pallets broke my leg when they smashed together.”

Looking at Tim, Gibbs ordered, “Help me get him against that boulder.”

Tony groaned and gasped as they moved him. Once he was settled sitting upright, Gibbs and Tim looked him over. He’d apparently been wearing his belt with a knife hidden in the buckle and had used it to cut his pants into bandage strips. There were a few strips around his leg and one around his head, which showed traces of blood. He’d taken his shirt off and had been using it as a blanket, while he used the life vest as a pillow.

“Tim, see if you can find any dry wood. He’s freezing.” Turning back to Tony, he cupped his chin gently and smiled. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”

Tony sniffled and shifted slightly. “You already said that.”

“I’m going to patch you up the best I can, but we have to get you back to our base camp. The only way is through the water. Can you swim?”

“Boss? You’re here.” For the first time, Tony reached out to touch Gibb’s cheek. When Gibbs kissed his hand, Tony pulled Gibbs close in a hug and kissed him.

Tim gave them an odd look as he dropped some dry twigs and began building a small fire.

“Have you been drinking the water here?” Gibbs asked, nodding to the fresh water that was tumbling down a waterfall and pooling before slipping further downhill toward the ocean.

“Yeah. I found the water and was following it upstream. There wasn’t much food, but I found a few berries and those. I think they’re mangos.”

Gibbs patted his back. “I’m glad you found something to eat.”

“I rather have a steak. You don’t have one in that pouch, do you?”

Gibbs smiled. “No. Wish I did. We have bottled water and MREs. I’ll get you something going here after I patch you up. I want to take a look at your head wound first.” 

Reaching up, Tony touched the fabric bandage he’d fashioned. “I didn’t realize I had a head wound.”

Placing his hands on either side of Tony’s face, Gibbs stared into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, Boss.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tony DiNozzo.”

“And my name?”

“Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I know who you are.”

“Ah, Skippy. I’m just worried about you. Okay?”

“Why?”

“Your head wound for one.”

Reaching for his head again, Tony touched the bandage. “I have a head wound?”

“Don’t tease,” said Gibbs as he pulled the crude bandaging away. “Tim, why don’t you heat up some meals?”

“On it, Boss,” he said as he dug into his pouch.

Gibbs took the bloody bandage to the pool of water and rinsed it out, then used it to clean the wound. He checked Tony from head to toe, then disappeared through the brush. 

Tim had already handed Tony a hot meal before Gibbs returned with two long branches. Once they all finished their meals, Gibbs had pulled Tony’s leg out straight and had Tim hold it in place, while he used the fabric bandages to secure the branches to Tony’s broken limb.

Despite his attempts to be brave and stoic, Tony yelped and groaned as they worked on his leg. “Damn, that hurts like an SOB.”

“I want to get it stabilized before we move you.”

“Move? We’re moving? But there’s water here. Why move?”

Gibbs glanced around the tiny area. “Not enough room. We have to get Roger before it gets dark. He’s up on top of one of the bluffs. Plus, we have a ton of supplies from the plane that washed up in our bay.”

“But there’s water here,” Tony said more softly.

“We have several cases of bottled water. If needed, we can bring some empties here and fill them up. We’re going to be fine. You are going to be fine.”

“How are we going to get him back?” Tim asked. “We barely made it up here and the only way out is to swim. It wasn’t easy for us, and neither of us has a broken leg.”

“We’ll make it,” Gibbs promised. “All of us.”


	6. Return To Base Camp

After Gibbs was satisfied Tony was sufficiently bandaged, he did some more scrounging to find some longer pieces of wood and broad leaves. With Tim’s help, they fashioned a crude stretcher. Moving slowly, Gibbs attached the rope to the stretcher and began tugging it down the slope, allowing Tim to remain at the other end, holding on and making sure Tony didn’t slip off.

Going downhill proved to be a much faster journey than when they had to climb up. Once they were at the ocean’s edge, Gibbs took off his life vest and asked for Tim’s. He’d already had Tony put his own on. Leaving the stretcher intact, he rearranged the straps so one vest was around Tony’s waist and the other was around his bad leg, with his other leg resting on top of it.

“I want you to be able to swim if we get into trouble,” he said. “You’re going to get wet.” After removing the rope from the stretcher, Gibbs once again tied one end around his own waist, then ran the rope through all three of the vests that were wrapped around Tony, before securing the far end around Tim’s waist. Gently placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, he assured him, “We can do this.”

“I know.”

“Tony, just relax and try to enjoy the ride. Try to lie flat and let us do the work.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Gibbs and Tim maneuvered Tony into the water, happy to see that the life vests were able to keep him afloat. They took turns swimming ahead, pulling Tony along with the rope, while the one in the back made sure Tony remained upright and avoided slamming him into any rocks. They took a break whenever they tired, finding rocky outcroppings to cling to while they caught their breath.

They were relieved to see their base camp finally coming into view as the sun started dropping closer to the horizon. Before they made it to shore, Roger was there, wading into the water to help pull Tony out. 

“I was so glad to see you guys had him. Tony, are you okay?” he asked, his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Busted leg. I think.”

Roger eyed the braced leg and nodded. “I saw you coming around the bluff and came down to help. I started a fire. I’ll get some meals heating while you get Tony settled.”

With Tim’s help, Gibbs removed the life vests and the wet clothing from Tony and settled him beside the fire. Tim wrapped him in two dry blankets while Gibbs searched through the first aid kit for pain pills, which Tony was happy to take.

Once Tony had a chance to get settled and warmed up a bit, he regaled them with his tale of getting out of the back of the plane and immediately having issues maneuvering. The ocean tossed him about like a ragdoll and he found it difficult and painful to move his leg. “I was afraid it might be broken,” he explained between bites of his MRE pasta.

His life vest had helped him stay afloat as he struggled around the side of the airplane, searching for something to hold onto. “I was able to get on top of the wing for a while, and was searching for anything that was floating that might be able to hold me up. I figured the plane was going to sink eventually and I couldn’t stay afloat on my own. I tried swimming toward some debris that was floating. I hoped it would keep me from drowning. I was so cold and disoriented. I never saw Tim or the raft, but the ocean was so choppy, and it kept pushing me under. I took in more water than I wanted and I felt like I was choking on it as I was trying to cough it out of my lungs. It was terrible. I was definitely in survival mode, just trying to keep my head above water.”

He went on to explain that the current had pushed him toward the front of the plane, and he’d found something small to hold onto. He’d kept upgrading to larger bits of debris to cling to, then he heard someone calling out.

“At first, I thought it was you guys. It turned out to be Roger. It took a lot of effort to get close to him. He was yelling at me about hypothermia and saying I had to get fully out of the water. By that time, the plane was beneath the surface. I still didn’t see a raft, and it was cold, dark and raining, too. Roger pointed me toward some debris from the plane that was floating. When I finally got to it, it took all my strength to get on top of it. Roger was trying to hold it steady. We talked for a while, then I guess we both fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I just held on to the debris.”

Pausing, he looked around in the direction they’d brought him from around the bluff. “I was so tired, but I was afraid if I fell asleep, there was more of a chance I’d fall into the ocean and drown. I did everything I could to stay awake. I’m sure I was drifting in and out. After a long time, I ran into some rocks. I turned around and couldn’t believe I was seeing land. I thought I might be imagining it. I kept trying to move closer to the land. It was mostly rocks, but I eventually saw what looked like a little waterfall; white water coming from the rocks. I swam for that. Once I got to land, I dragged myself as far as I could.”

Tim shook his head. “I can’t believe you found fresh water right there where you landed.”

Tony smiled. “I’ve always lived a somewhat blessed life.”

“You still crashed and broke your leg.”

“True. That’s why I said somewhat, Probie. I wasn’t sure how far the tide would come up, so I kept dragging myself further inland. I tasted the water and it seemed fine. It was sure as hell better than being in the ocean.”

“Why did you keep going further inland?” Gibbs asked.

“I didn’t have anything better to do. So I kept going. When I got to that spot where the water pooled a bit, I stopped. I found some fruit and berries close to the water. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do once the food ran out, but I was glad to have water to drink and a little protection from the rain.”

Getting up, Gibbs added more branches to their fire. “We looked for you for days.”

“And you found me. Thanks, Boss. I knew you would find me, sooner or later.”

“Our original plan was to do a grid search of the island, but the brush was too dense. This island has very little level space and is mostly steep, rocky bluffs.”

“We were lucky, too,” said Tim. “We washed up here, in this cove, and most of the supplies wound up here, too.”

“We fought our way to the top of that bluff, and I spotted a yellow life preserver in the water. I thought it was you,” Gibbs explained. “It took us a long time to work our way around, but we found Roger.”

“And I was barely hanging on. I hadn’t come across any food or drinking water,” said Roger. “At some point, I fell asleep and woke up just floating in the water amongst a lot of rocky outcroppings. I was swimming from one to the other, trying to get to land. I was exhausted and barely had the energy to hang onto the rocks. I was trying to make sure the tide didn’t pull me away from land, back out to the ocean. I’m sure glad you guys found me when you did. I’m not sure I would have made it to land without your help.”

The small group sat and chatted for a short time, then Gibbs announced they would need to build another shelter. “The one I made is only large enough for two people. We won’t all fit in there.”

Gibbs did most of the work, with Tim’s help. Roger offered to assist, but they asked him to sit and keep Tony company instead. 

By nightfall, they had a second shelter built near the first. With Gibbs on one side of Tony, and Tim at the other, they carried him from the fire to the new shelter, which was closest to the fire. “I’ll stay with him,” Gibbs announced firmly. 

“I found your go-bag,” he told Tony. “It’s still a little wet, but I can help you brush your teeth if you want.”

Tony reached out, grinning as he ran his hand across Gibbs’ stubble. “We could all use a shave, too.”

“That can wait.”

Throughout that night, Gibbs slept very well, spooned up next to Tony. It was a great relief having Tony safely back at his side. 

“I guess you didn’t dump me for Tim,” teased Tony. 

“Why would I do that?” Gibbs asked as he nuzzled Tony’s neck.

“Well, he does have two good legs.”

Gibbs chuckled and gave Tony a light head slap. “We’re going to get you patched up and besides, there are other things that attracted me to you more than your legs.”

“What’s wrong with my legs?”

“One of them appears to be broken.”

“It wasn’t broken until I got squished between two pallets.” 

Gibbs ran his hand across Tony’s bare waist. “Maybe I should take inventory; make sure everything else is still in good shape.”


	7. Rescued

Gibbs awoke early the next day and managed to reconfigure a pallet into a box seat for Tony. With the broken leg, it was difficult for him to get up from the ground, even with help from the others, so having a taller seat helped them all. The early morning hammering managed to awaken everyone, so Tim and Roger stepped out of their shelter to build up the fire and make breakfast.

After they ate, Tim scrounged through the clothing supplies and found Tony some underwear, T-shirts, pants, shirts, socks and boots. Using his knife, Tony cut a pair of pants down to shorts to make them easier to manage. It amused him that they were now all in matching clothing. 

“Reminds me of boarding school,” he said.

“Military togs,” said Gibbs. “Everyone dresses the same.” 

“Don’t they get mixed up?”

“They all are tagged with the sailor’s names.”

“Who does that?”

“Tailoring detail.”

“That’s a thing?”

“It is in the military. Can’t have soldiers in ill-fitting clothing.”

“Interesting.”

Threading his fingers through Tony’s hair, Gibbs added, “They have barbers, too.”

Still feeling fidgety, Gibbs left the camp. He was gone for about an hour before returning with long pieces of wood. His next task was fashioning more sturdy splints for Tony’s legs and a set of crutches so Tony could get up on his own if he wanted too. Tim used clothing that didn’t fit any of them to pad the top of the crutches where it fit against Tony’s underarm.

“Thanks, Boss. When can I expect the wheelchair?” he asked hopefully.

Gibbs chuckled and smiled. “You’d never get it moving on the sand. A boat would be more useful.”

Tim cleared his throat. “Not to knock your boatbuilding skills, Boss, but we’re too far out. We’d never make it to land. We have food, water and dry clothing here. They’ll do a grid search and find us.”

Gibbs tossed a scrap from his project into the bay. “I hate sitting around and doing nothing.”

“I know,” Tim said softly. 

Roger piped up to add, “We’re beyond lucky to have all found this piece of rock. We’re truly fortunate to have survived. I agree with Tim. We’re too far from any populated land. We have supplies here. I know they’re going to start the search where the plane went down, but they’ll find us. They’ll expand the search until we’re found.”

“What if they don’t? What if they think we’re all dead?” Gibbs asked. “The supplies are going to run out eventually. There are a few fruits and berries around, but that’s not enough to sustain us long term.”

Roger’s eyed the bay. “There has to be some fish around.”

Before starting on a boat, Gibbs agreed to build a few more chairs and expand the shelters. Tim and Roger both helped, while Tony felt mostly useless. When Tim suggested they make one large hut they could all share, both Tony and Gibbs glared at him and said, no.

Late in the afternoon, while Gibbs was sorting through their stack of building materials and Roger was taking a shift atop the bluff watching for rescue planes, Tim was tending the fire.

“You do know that Gibbs and I are together, right?” asked Tony. 

“Together?”

“Dating.”

“Dating? Really? You and Gibbs? What?”

“You are an investigator, Probie. You never saw the clues? I always figured Kate knew, but was too polite to say anything.”

“That explains the kissing. I was happy to see you, too, but I was surprised to see Gibbs kiss you. Especially on the lips.”

Tony’s fingers lightly rubbed his lips. “He’s actually a pretty good kisser. He’s pretty good at other stuff, too. Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course. How long have you guys been together?”

“About a year. We kept it hush-hush around the Navy Yard, but with just four of us here practically living together, it’s hard to completely hide everything.”

“I guess. And you still call him Boss?”

“Habit. I call him Jethro at his house.”

*** *** *** 

As Tony needed assistance constantly, Gibbs would help him into the water to bathe daily, and wash his hair. He’d also stand at Tony’s side making sure he didn’t fall over as he was brushing his teeth. Each morning, he would help Tony get dressed, and in the evenings, as they were going to bed, he’d help Tony strip down and lie on the floor of the shelter on a pile of leaves Gibbs had gathered and covered with a blanket.

“Shame there’s no alcohol,” Tony ventured as they were going to bed. “It would be an okay beach vacation with a couple umbrella drinks.”

“Except for the rain, bugs and mediocre food,” Gibbs grumbled as he pulled another blanket over them as a cover.

“I’m not sure I’d even call those MREs mediocre. But I am glad we have them. They’re sure better than starving.”

“They’re a lot better than MREs were when I was in the service. And it’s a bonus that they’re in waterproof packaging.”

“I’m not complaining. They’re better than only fruit and berries. Although it’s nice when Probie goes off and gets us a little fresh fruit as a treat.”

“Good thing he found a couple cases of bug spray. The first time he went out there, he came back covered in bug bites. At first, the only thing that helped was for him to go swimming.” Gibbs smiled as the memory came to him vividly.

“I noticed he was using calamine lotion.”

“He was pretty miserable until we found that.”

When Gibbs took his shift on the bluff, Tim and Roger would assist Tony as needed. They did their best to keep him cheerful, as he often complained about feeling useless. 

“It’s not like you broke your leg on purpose,” Tim reminded him.

*** *** *** 

Despite the others attempting to dissuade Gibbs from building a boat, he eventually set up shop on the beach above the waterline where the tides rolled in. Roger explained each day how he thought the search was going.

“It’s not as easy as you think. They’d have to be within range to hear the ping. The radio wasn’t working and we changed our route.”

“So, they’re looking in the wrong place,” Tony said, his eyes dropped down.

“Initially, yes. However, when they don’t find anything, they’re going to spread out. They’ll be researching tide patterns and weather patterns. We’re trained. They know our training. They know how we would react and where we would go. They’re going to figure it out and they will find us.” Reaching over, Roger patted Tony’s hand reassuringly. “They’re going to find us alive, and any day now. I know it. No worries.”

They fell into patterns and duties. Roger, Tim and Gibbs took turns at the top of the bluff. Tim washed everyone’s clothing and hung it to dry and also scouted for fresh fruit and berries to supplement their MRE meals. Roger kept the supplies organized and heated up their meals. Gibbs worked on the boat and made sure there was wood for their campfire. He kept a stock on top of a box next to Tony, so Tony could add wood to the fire as needed. 

When it rained, they would huddle in their shelters and try to get some sleep until the weather let up. If the rain was light enough, Tim would still go out hunting fruits and berries, sometimes with Gibbs or Roger at his side.

*** *** *** 

One day, Tony looked up seeing wisps of smoke atop the bluff. He quickly adjusted how he was sitting. “Guess Roger is cooking up there,” he said.

Tim looked up and stared at the wisps. “He’s added something green to make it smoky. He must see something.”

“Then why didn’t he fire off a flare?”

“Maybe it’s too far away. I don’t know. Do you see anything?”

Both Tim and Tony looked to the west, but didn’t see anything that looked like a plane. “Maybe it’s a boat?” Tony suggested.

They continued to watch the wispy smoke, their hearts racing with hopes of being rescued as they stared out over the ocean.

Thirty minutes later Gibbs was jogging down the path. He kicked over the stands he’d made to hold up his boat, allowing his project to tip over, moving it away from the live plants at the edge of the beach. Grabbing a piece of wood, he caught it on fire, then used it to light up the remains of his boat-in-progress.

“Boss?” Tim questioned. “Your boat.”

“Busy work, Tim. Kept my mind and hands occupied. Roger is sure he saw a contrail, but they’re too far away to see a flare. If we can create enough smoke, they should notice it. At any rate, he’s certain they’re expanding the search in this direction.”

Tim stopped hanging their laundry and helped Gibbs pile more dry wood around the boat, then helped him pull green leaves from the foliage and add it into the fire to create more smoke. Their fire was certainly larger than the one on the bluff.

*** *** *** 

Leaving Tim to tend the fire and keep Tony company, Gibbs returned to the bluff to talk to Roger.

“Are you still sure it’s a plane?” he asked. 

Roger handed him the binoculars. “They’re still a good distance away, but yeah, I’m sure it’s a plane. The way the contrails are laid out, it’s flying a search pattern. That is not a natural phenomenon, it’s definitely a pattern. They’re going to find us. They just need to look this way and see the smoke.”

They watched the contrails for hours and the plane seemed to fly its grid, sometimes where they could see it with the binoculars, and sometimes they lost sight of it. 

Neither said a word when it disappeared for over thirty minutes, but they both remained alert, watching for any sign. 

Roger still sounded competent. “They probably saw the smoke and went back to refuel. They’ll find us.” An hour later, Roger jumped up and pointed. “It’s back.” After watching through the binoculars for a few minutes, he added, “They’re headed straight for us. They saw the smoke!”

“Are you sure?”

Handing the binoculars to Gibbs, he said, “See for yourself.”

*** *** *** 

Leaving Roger alone on the bluff, Gibbs rushed back down to their base camp to share the news. He shook Tim’s hand and hugged Tony.

“You’re looking a little shaggy, there, Jethro,” said Tony. “We’ll have to get you an appointment with one of their barbers.”

“Not before we get a doctor to look at your leg.”

A few minutes later, they thought they could hear the search plane, and saw that Roger had fired off the flare gun. A short time later, a plane was circling overhead several times before flying away. 

Gibbs returned to the bluff to help Roger extinguish the fire there, before they both returned to the beach where Roger explained, “That was just a spotter plane. It can’t land on this island or the water. It will report our location and they’ll send a rescue helicopter.”

“How long is that going to take?” asked Tony.

“It depends on how close the ship is. The search planes are a lot faster and have a greater range than the helicopters. If they’re not close enough, the ship will have to sail closer before the helicopters will be within range.”

*** *** *** 

It was over two hours later that they heard the helicopters closing in. They first lowered down a walkie-talkie radio which Roger promptly grabbed. He informed them there were four survivors and loads of supplies that had washed up. While he was conversing with the crew on the lead helicopter, they saw two more helicopters approaching in the distance.

Tim and Gibbs worked together to douse the fire and pushed most of the remnants into the bay to ensure it was fully out. Once their task was completed, Tim ran back to the shelters to grab their recovered go-bags, and Gibbs stood by Roger’s side to listen to the conversation. 

Gibbs insisted that Tony be the first one taken off the island and that he be the last, but Tim talked him into riding with Tony, since there were three helicopters there. “There’s no reason to wait. I gather we’re a fair distance from the ship.”

Gibbs nodded his agreement, and went to help Tony. A gurney was lowered on the hoist and all three men worked together to secure Tony to be lifted. Gibbs went next. As soon as he was lifted up, they took off. 

As Roger had mentioned the supplies, it was decided they would help load some things up for the next helicopter to take back, then they were both lifted into the final helicopter for their return.

*** *** *** 

All four men slept on the flight back to the rescue ship. The pilot had notified his ship about Tony’s broken leg, and there was a team waiting with a gurney to move him quickly to their sickbay. Gibbs, Roger and Tim all were insistent they could walk on their own.

Gibbs insisted on waiting nearby while Tony was fitted with a proper cast. While all four of them slept in sickbay, the other three were allowed to roam the ship as long as they didn’t interfere with the duties of the crew. For his safety, Tony was advised to remain in bed until they returned to shore. Gibbs took his meals with Tony, so he didn’t have to eat alone.

When they were returned to the Navy Yard, Ducky was there with a set of crutches for Tony and offered to drive them all home in the ME van, so Tony could lie down. Abby had gone ahead to Gibbs’ house and prepared a feast for everyone to share. Tony still had to sit on the couch, so Gibbs happily sat at his side. 

“You owe me a steak dinner,” Tony said with a smile. 

“Tomorrow. Tonight we’re going to relax and enjoy being back home.” 

Reaching for the remote control, Tony asked, “What do you want to watch?”

“Anything but _Gilligan’s Island_ or _Cast Away_.”

~~~The End~~~

01/19/2020  
© 2020 by Jacie

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Lost At Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240478) by [Solariana (Jacie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Solariana)




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